


ne me quitte pas

by end_thistragedy



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-11
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2017-11-07 12:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/431258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/end_thistragedy/pseuds/end_thistragedy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Niall was the first to find out, of course he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> John Green's novel, The Fault in Our Stars, has made me feel like crap so I decided I wanted to write something that made me feel even more like crap. So with that said, this is a cancer fic.

They’ve decided not to talk about it. Well—it wasn’t exactly a mutual or even consensual agreement. It was mostly Zayn. And Niall understands that, he does, but it’s hard. Harder than anything he’s ever dealt with. He doesn’t want Zayn to feel he’s alone in this—that he doesn’t have the moral support the size of a football team with all the affection Niall and the boys have always relentlessly given him.

Niall was the first to find out, of course he is. It was a Tuesday night in late November and Zayn had been late for the first time during the span of their relationship. Niall was sitting on his porch with his hands in the pockets of jacket, shaking with cold, worrying his lip with his teeth and trying not to think the worst. Except there was nothing he could do to pass the time but worry about just how much time was passing.

It had taken half an hour of waiting at the risk of catching a cold for Zayn to ride up in front of Niall’s place on his bike, a clear sign that their plans, however easily adjustable, were indeed canceled.

None of that seemed to matter when Niall was finally able to observe Zayn in close proximity, a distressing sight that instantly shattered his irate mood into pieces. It was when Zayn had tried to hide his face, to avoid meeting Niall’s eyes directly, that Niall realized that Zayn had been crying. And that was just something Niall had never had the heartbreaking displeasure of witnessing.

Niall had gripped Zayn’s chin to tilt his head up, to coerce him into opening his eyes, to look at him, to let him in, despite the rapidly growing intensity of Zayn’s aggressive denials, and said, “Zayn. _Please_.”

It was the desperate pleading in those simple words that swayed Zayn to finally open his eyes, to display his most vulnerable moment, to give into Niall completely. And Niall felt his heart breaking, remnants of the pain sinking to the very pit of his stomach and lingering, producing an overwhelmingly dominant feeling of ineptness.

“Jesus Christ,” Niall couldn’t control his dejection, nor his curiosity as his hand made its way up to Zayn’s cheek where his thumb began to make deliberate, soothing strokes. “Talk to me, man. You gotta say something.” It was disheartening enough that Zayn arrived with tears in his eyes and Niall had absolutely no control over it, it was even worse that Niall was unaware of what caused it and didn’t have a sufficient amount of information to even attempt to fix it.

“Can we go inside?” They were the first words that came out of his mouth and his voice was wrecked to the point where Niall barely recognized it as his.

“All right,” Niall replied, removing his hand from its caress on Zayn’s cheek, and seizing Zayn’s hand instead, linking their fingers together with a gentle squeeze.

Niall’s mother had been watching television, so she hadn’t noticed when Niall and Zayn climbed the stairs and entered Niall’s room. Niall shut his door behind them, not releasing Zayn’s hand until the door was locked, a safety measure they’d always taken to ensure that they were always completely alone.

He watched as Zayn immediately made himself comfortable on what Niall’s come to know as _his_ side of the bed, and followed suit seconds later, not hesitating to wrap his arms around Zayn’s waist, bringing their bodies together.

“Talk to me.” Niall had repeated, pleading, desperately searching for a way in, and trying to find a loophole through the walls Zayn had built.

Zayn had refused for quite some time and after a while, Niall could tell he had begun to cry again. And that hurt more than anything. The fact that Niall was right there and not even his comfort could soothe Zayn’s pain.

The silence between them grew deafening. It was the moment when Niall felt that sleep was threatening to overcome him when Zayn stirred in his arms, taking Niall’s arm off of his waist and sliding his hand in his.

The words that came out of his mouth, then, hit Niall like bullets, “I have cancer,” and Niall’s body had gone completely numb.

\---

They have sex, desperately rough and rushed in Niall’s bed; and afterwards, Zayn makes a quip about how pretty soon he won’t have much energy to keep up with Niall’s enthusiasm, and he laughs, but Niall doesn’t think it’s funny.

He turns on his side, squeezes his eyes shut, and doesn’t respond.

\---

They told the boys together. Niall had texted them all to meet them in a public place, the nearest café that would be an equal distance for them all, to prevent even the _thought_ of overreaction.

Liam had been the first to arrive; looking worried, having detected the hint of sadness in Niall’s text messages, a special power that still manages to astound them. He’d sat beside Zayn and asked, “All right, boys?” and only Liam could manage to convey so much by saying so little.

When Louis and Harry arrived, Zayn had reached underneath the table to put his hand on Niall’s thigh, squeezing. And as he told them, Niall put his arm around Zayn’s shoulders and tried not to cry as he watched each of his best friends become burdened with uncontrollable grief.

\---

The worst part is that they start acting differently.

Louis is a lot more delicate when he’s around, making fewer to no jokes at all and never making inappropriate comments when they watch a movie together. Liam never has to tell Louis to lower his voice anymore because Louis barely even opens his mouth.

Liam remains the same, but all of his best traits—careful, caring, and a tad bit controlling—are intensified. He wants to know if Zayn feels sick at all, asks if he’s okay a countless number of times, offers him water, and more water, and a place to sit. When Zayn confronts him about it, he only says, “I just want you to be all right.” And no one, not even Zayn who sometimes feels smothered by Liam’s attempts, tries to deny him. 

But it’s Harry that surprises them the most. He acts like nothing has changed at all. He goes about his business, still constantly poking fun at Zayn if he does something particularly stupid, telling useless stories really slowly until none of them are interested  anymore, and cooking them all dinner and not asking Zayn if he’s hungry, just piling his plate with food and spilling sauce all over the counter. Niall is eternally grateful for him, for being the one thing that hasn’t changed—that _will never_ change.

\---

Eventually, the two of them argue about it.

Niall says, “It’s not fair,” to which Zayn replies, “Of course it’s not _fair_.” And if anything’s changed, it’s the way Zayn feels about the world. All of his beliefs have been shattered, his hopes, his dreams—all gone because of a stupid illness that’s coerced him into embodying a miserable pessimistic.

Somewhere down the line, there’s a desperate moment of weakness when Zayn tells Niall he doesn’t want him to feel trapped and Niall gets pissed.

“That’s not what this is,” Niall responds—desperate, beseeching, “Tell me you don’t think that’s what this is.”

And it’s the makings of potentially the biggest fight they’ve ever had, but Zayn just stays silent, obstinate, and Niall walks out on him. He leaves on his bike and drives straight into traffic without looking, peddling to Liam’s house to cry into his pillows and listen to him talk about his latest project and how much he really, really hates the new character on a show that Niall doesn’t have the time or the patience to watch.

The distraction helps.

Niall is able to relax and breathe and remind himself that Zayn is just as terrified as the rest of them, even though he doesn’t show it as much.

But in time Liam asks about it, and Niall’s solitude and being able to not want to crawl out of his skin at the thought of anything happening to Zayn is interrupted when they’re eating Chinese takeout on Liam’s floor and Niall has just pressed a button to ignored the tenth call from Zayn.

Knowing that he couldn’t hide anything from Liam even if he tried, he explains the entire situation to him—how Zayn thinks Niall feels like he’s stuck in their relationship, how Zayn has been putting on this cynical front, and how Niall is always, constantly overthinking it all and has panic attacks more often than not.    

And the thing is, Niall has always been so happy, so bright, always constantly shining, outshining everyone else in the room, always so fucking grounded—and now he’s struggling to keep himself together. It’s been common knowledge that it was _Niall_ that kept Zayn strong, when, in reality; it was really _Zayn_ who kept Niall from falling apart. And that’s what makes the entire situation so hard.

Liam responds by leaving the room and coming back with a tin of ice cream and two spoons, offering one to Niall, and saying, “You said you’ve always wanted to do this.”

And Niall calls his mum to say he won’t be home that night.

\---

Niall doesn’t return Zayn’s calls until the next morning, when he’s fed up of Liam’s arm smacking him in the face in his sleep. He crawls out of bed and into the bathroom, closing the door as softly as he can, and curling himself inside of Liam’s bathtub—a strange habit of his that he adopted when he was an emotional six- or seven-year-old that his mother always hated, that Zayn teased him for.

Niall almost falls asleep again listening to the sound of the phone dialing Zayn’s number, only just now realizing that he hadn’t checked the time and it could be still be early and Zayn would without a doubt still be sleeping.

But the sound of the dial tone is muted and Niall stops breathing.

“I’m so sorry,” is the first thing Zayn says when he answers Niall’s call.

Niall exhales shakily into the phone and forgives him.

\---

They meet for lunch and Zayn watches Niall as he eats like he’d starved for months. And they don’t talk about it. They never do.

\---

But then Zayn starts chemo and everyone gets tense. Both of their parents agree that it’d be for the best that the two of them see less of each other for the duration—for Zayn and Niall’s sake and theirs. And that’s just unfair.

Two nights before Zayn’s first day, they’re in Zayn’s room, sitting, facing each other with their legs crossed on the bed and their knees pressed together. Their heads are leaned in close and Niall has his hands on Zayn, everywhere, trying to touch every inch while Zayn is tracing lines on Niall’s skin, absently, relishing in the fact that Niall’s breathing is affected, just from the feel of his touch. They haven’t really spoken more than two words to each other, too lost in one another to care much for conversation. But Niall’s thoughts catch up to him, clouding his head with worry, and he tries to scoot closer to Zayn, to keep him right in front of him forever.

“I want—” Niall clinches his fist where it rests on Zayn’s back, his jaw, and swallows, ignoring the rush he gets through his body when Zayn’s thumb brushes over his neck, chasing after the movement. “I want to be there for you.”

“I know,” Zayn replies, and he pulls Niall forward, on top of him as he lies on his back. Niall scoots down enough to lie on Zayn’s chest comfortably, allows Zayn to wrap his arm around him. “I love you, yeah?”

And Niall nods against his chest and focuses on the beating of Zayn’s heart through the fabric of his thin t-shirt, the rhythmic throbbing reassuring him that everything’s all right. Zayn is right there, right now, and nothing is going to change that.

He doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he’s crying.

\---

The same night, they both agree to not have sex as per their usual routine. Being alone together was becoming overwhelmingly intense, and had the potential of becoming dangerous. Instead, they call the boys over to watch movies, play video games, and eat the entirety of Zayn’s fridge. None of them bring up the fact that in just 24 hours, Zayn would be sitting in a hospital, a needle in his arm, shooting him up with medicine in an attempt to slow and kill the cancerous cells threatening to end his life. Niall is grateful for that.

When Harry’s banal commentary on each snippet of a movie they watch becomes null and unbearable, Louis volunteers to entertain them with his really bad impressions. They were really, truly awful impressions, but Zayn laughs harder and louder than usual, and no one comments on that either.

What really makes the night is when Liam brings up something Louis had done in grade seven, and the five of them start reminiscing on all the shenanigans they’d gotten themselves into, how before both Harry and Zayn had showed up in grade eight; Niall, Louis, and Liam were constantly getting chewed out at school, finding themselves in situations that Zayn and Harry would never, ever believe. Louis teases Zayn for the person he was when he first arrived at their school, pretending to be this moody delinquent who kicked cute puppies in the face, but instead he turned out to be the sweetest person to ever exist on the planet—“Aside from Liam god damn Payne, of course.” But then, unsurprisingly, Louis’ fleeting comment leads to a massive love on Zayn fest and they all take turns telling their favorite Zayn stories like they’re five years old and it’s show-and-tell time and Zayn is their cute little pet.  

They shower Zayn with an unfathomable amount of love until he starts crying and jokingly tells them that he hates them.

And it’s like—Niall has to sit back and watch them as they all smile at Zayn and try not to shed any tears themselves because it’s all just too much. They’re all so scared, Niall can see it in their eyes, but they’re trying _so fucking hard_ to be strong, for Zayn’s sake. But it’s slowly, infuriatingly tearing each of them apart.

\---

On the first day of Zayn’s chemo, Niall doesn’t leave his room. His mum only checks in on him once, at breakfast. Liam texts him sometime after noon to offer his company after he gets off of work; Harry calls once complaining about Louis' inability to answer the phone, and how he'd come over if he had a ride, and Louis texts him saying he's stuck babysitting and adds a quip about how maybe later they can meet up and discuss the details of that threesome with him and Zayn that he’s always wanted.

Niall declines them all, wanting to be alone, hating the idea of being distracted from what's important. He stays on his computer all day, on Zayn's Facebook profile, refreshing every second to read the comments that flood Zayn's wall as more and more of Zayn's "friends" are alerted to what's going on in his life. The comments piss Niall off. All from people who shunned Zayn on a daily basis, tormented him for being who he was. It's bullshit. Niall reads the fifth "Good luck, Zayn! I love you so much!" from people who have probably never talked to Zayn in their lives, and slams his laptop closed.

When his head lands on his pillow, he falls asleep minutes later. He wakes up and it's dark outside, and he has nine missed calls, fourteen text messages, and two voicemails. The texts are a mixture of concern and anger, and the voicemails are a butt dial from his mum and a concerned message from Liam. One of his missed calls, though, is from Zayn.

He doesn't call Zayn back until after hours after dinner, excusing himself from the room where his family is watching a movie, ignoring the concerned looks thrown his way. He goes to his room and shuts his door, turns the lock, and collapses on top of his unmade bed. He’s still so tired. And the thought of what Zayn had to go through that day only made him feel even more exhausted.

When he dials Zayn’s number, Zayn answers on the first ring, as if he’d been staring at the screen of his phone, waiting. “Hi.”

Niall closes his eyes, dwelling in the sound of Zayn’s voice. He rejoices in the fact that Zayn still sounds the same, that the process hadn’t taken too much out of him. “Hey.”

Zayn chuckles, and it’s the most amazing sound that Niall has ever heard. When it’s silent for too long, Zayn says, “Are you still there?”

“Yeah,” Niall breathes the word, his eyes still closed, trying to picture how Zayn looks at that moment. “Shh. I just want to hear you breathe,” he admits, honestly.

“I’ve been alone with my breathing for hours today. I want to hear your voice. Talk to me.” Zayn says, “What’d you do today?”

“Nothing,” Niall responds, trying to ignore the buzzing feeling in his chest, “Slept. Fucked around on the internet.” He leaves out the part where he stalked his Facebook page and mentally planned the murder of every person who commented on his wall. He changed the subject, “How are you?”

And he should’ve known Zayn wouldn’t answer that, should’ve known that he would try any and everything to avoid the subject at all costs. “I want to see you,” he says, instead.

Niall begins massaging his temples with his thumb in forefinger, attempting to ward off a potential headache. “Me too.”

“Let’s meet, then.”

“We can’t. Our parents—”

“—can fuck off. They wanted us to see less of each other, Ni. Not none. Come on.”

“Where?”

“I dunno. Maybe the park? Close to Harry’s?”

The park close to Harry’s was miles away. Niall would probably have to drive his mum’s car; Zayn could easily walk, if he wanted to. “Okay,” Niall says, anyway. “Can you walk?”

“I’m not cripple.” Zayn says, and for a moment, Niall thinks he’s done it, he’s pissed him off, and now he’s going to hang up, but then Zayn says, “Bring your bike, we’ll go riding. Meet me in twenty, yeah?”

Niall responds with a simple, “Okay.” The thing was, Niall could leave the house at any time, easy, tell his mother he’s going to crash at one of the boy’s places—the same thing he’s been doing for years. When he hangs up with Zayn, he gathers up his necessary belongings and returns to the living room.

He announces, “I’m gonna go to Harry’s,” because it’s safer than saying he’s going to Liam’s. The park is closer to Harry’s after all and if the need arises, he and Zayn would both rush to Harry’s in case their parents plan an impromptu call and want to speak with Harry to prove that they’ve told the truth.

His mum asks, “Will Zayn be there?” And when he shakes his head, she says, “Okay, well call or text when you get there.”

“Of course,” Niall says, and he thanks her by kissing her on the cheek, ignoring the guilty feeling that flooded the pit of his stomach.

\---

It’s almost midnight and it’s freezing. When Niall arrives at the park, Zayn is already there, his bike discarded carelessly in the grass. Niall rides his bike up to the curb and hops off of it, stumbling a little at the sight of Zayn all wrapped up in his coat, walking towards Niall, and they meet in the middle. Niall squeezes him too tight and Zayn put his arms around Niall’s waist and they just stand there in each other’s arms. They linger longer than necessary, Zayn wrapping his arms around Niall’s body, even tighter, and Niall knows it’s because of all that’s been going on lately, but he doesn’t care because it’s Zayn and that’s Zayn’s way of saying he’s there, always.

But then Zayn is pulling away, and telling him, “Come on, let’s go for a ride.”

The two of them grab their bikes and Zayn takes off without warning, yelling over his shoulder something that Niall doesn’t hear. He hurries to mount his own bike, dreading the speed and effort in which he would have to put forth in order to catch up with Zayn.

But eventually, he does, and they’re riding next to each other, right down the middle of the street. And Niall just wants to live in the moment forever, doesn’t want the night to end, hates the idea of the sun rising and being forced to separate from Zayn once again.

It’s so cold out and Niall stops riding at the same time Zayn does, at the moment when they’re both breathing heavy, and their legs are practically burning at the overuse. They let their bikes fall onto the side of the road, and they their bodies onto the grass where they lay close side by side.

Zayn silently reaches out to seize Niall’s hand, watching their hands together, and Niall looks up at the stars and concentrates on keeping his breaths normal, attempting to refrain from crying. He wants to enjoy this night, this moment with Zayn. He doesn’t want to think about all of the things that are trying to break them apart, but he and Zayn haven’t even discussed it, not once since Zayn had told him. And Niall tries to convince him to talk about it, right there in the grass, but Zayn isn’t having this conversation, not now, not ever.

He’s up off of the ground in seconds, next to his bike, hopping on without a word, and he’s speeding away. It takes Niall a moment to realize that Zayn is actually _running._ Niall grabs his bike and hurries to catch up with him, his eyes filled with worry as he watches as Zayn is peddling harder, picking up speed, trying to get away, away from Niall’s incessant yells, “Stop! Zayn— _please!”_

And that’s when Niall notices as Zayn begins peddling slower, struggling. Zayn shouldn’t even be riding a fucking bike, not after four hours of chemotherapy. Niall doesn’t know what he was thinking, letting him. He was being selfish, so desperate to see him. Niall is able to ride up beside him, reaching out to grab Zayn’s tiny arms, squeezing, “Look at you, you’re going to kill yourself. Stop fucking peddling.” Niall stops riding himself, his grip on Zayn’s arm tightening, as he coerces his boyfriend to just fucking _stop_. “Look at me, hey.” There are tears in Zayn’s eyes and Niall wipes away the ones that try to escape down his cheek. “Hey, I don’t want to see you struggling. You have to stop, Zayn,” and Zayn knows that Niall isn’t talking about bikes, “You gotta let me in. I can’t be there for you, if you’re not letting me.”

Zayn snatches Niall’s hands away from him, kicking away his bike, and walking away, knowing Niall will follow him, knowing that Niall will follow him anywhere, always.

When he stops walking, he lets Niall turn him around, lets him pull him close and press a kiss to his forehead. “Talk to me, Zayn.”

And that’s all it takes, all Zayn needs. “I don’t want to leave you,” Zayn tells him, their foreheads pressed together, their breaths entwining, inhaling a piece of one of another.

Without a beat Niall says, “I don’t want you to leave,” and Zayn brings them even closer, putting his hand on the back of Niall’s neck and pulling him, breathing him in, pressing them as close as he can.

“ _Niall_.” And it’s like a fucking movie—Niall crashes their mouths together, their lips pressing harder, stronger together in an effort to keep themselves as one.

Nothing can change that. They’re still Niall and Zayn and nothing’s going to take that away from them. 


	2. deux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He remembers the way Zayn quietly picked at an orange, tossing peels mindlessly onto the counter, each landing further than the last. He remembers him saying, "They want us to stop seeing each other, you know," remembers the way the exhaustion evident in his voice when he met Niall's gaze, "Entirely."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going through all my random bits and unfinished things and posting them and here's this rly short attempt at a sequel! so let's take a trip to four years in the past !

Niall hasn't seen or heard from Zayn since the last night they'd spent together over two and half weeks ago -- the night that resulted in Niall taking Zayn's trembling hand as he guided him back home. Zayn's mother wasn't surprised to see Niall standing there with a hooded and red eyed Zayn when she opened the door. She only took one glance at their hands tightly entwined and silently ushered them both inside.

Niall spent the night lying on his back in Zayn's oversized bed with Zayn curled into his side and woke up the next morning to Zayn's baby sister standing beside him, bottom lip mashed worriedly between her teeth as she stared down at him with tears welling in her soft brown eyes.

"I'm sorry." she'd said, and they'd both helped Zayn down the stairs to where both of their mothers were waiting, half empty cups of tea and coffee gone cold.

Niall had only heard snippets of the confrontation, though, too busy memorizing the familiar squeeze of Zayn's hand in his, the feel of the skin that stretched over the bones of his hand, the ease in which their fingers locked together like fitting pieces into an effortless puzzle.

It was irrational, he thinks, the lengths at which their parents begin to go to keep them away from each other. A healthy distance.

He remembers standing in Zayn's kitchen, hearing the muted tones of their mothers in the other room, the distant sound of music coming from one of the girls' bedrooms. Sunday cleaning, he thought absently.

He remembers the way Zayn quietly picked at an orange, tossing peels mindlessly onto the counter, each landing further than the last. He remembers him saying, "They want us to stop seeing each other, you know," remembers the way the exhaustion evident in his voice when he met Niall's gaze, "Entirely."

Maura changes his cell number, blocking Zayn's and even his sisters' numbers. Zayn's Facebook account is deactivated, Trisha doesn't want him overwhelmed. Maura even blocks his old email and puts him on a strict set of rules. He can freely see Liam, Harry, and Louis, but never when Zayn's around.

Niall feels like he's six years old again, but the boys don't mind it, as long as they can see Niall as often as possible to make sure that he's all right.

It's nearing two weeks into the separation when Niall sneaks out of the house with a bottle of cheap vodka he knew his brother had hidden underneath his mattress for times when he was home from university and willing to break the no alcohol in the house rule Maura stood by.

He gets unnervingly drunk and rides his bike out to the train tracks a mile from his house. They'd come out here, sometimes, the five of them, whenever they wanted to get piss drunk and fuck around on the tracks, Louis and Zayn trying to do fancy tricks with skateboards while Harry laughed, Liam shook his head disapprovingly, and Niall watched them--watched Zayn. The ease in which his body lifted as he managed to land another move that Niall didn't understand. Louis had always playfully pushed Zayn off of his board, pretending to be jealous which ended up in the two of them play fighting and wrestling each other on the gravel. And Harry still laughed. And Liam shook his head. And Niall watched.

Now without the the solid comfort of the boys, Niall felt suddenly frighteningly, desperately alone. He stumbled his way off of his bike and collapsed on the ground beside it, his hand still miraculously gripping onto the plastic bottle of liquor.

He doesn't really know what possessed him to ride to the tracks, especially without the boys, without them there to almost kill themselves as the train passes. But he'd somehow ended up there unconsciously, lying uncomfortably on the gravel, desperately trying not to think about the numerous times he and Zayn and the boys would do the same thing, except Zayn would have given Niall whatever jumper or jacket he had on for him to lie back on. Once Liam had even brought along a blanket big enough for all of them to share and Zayn and Harry took turns talking about the stars while Niall curled into Zayn's arms and Zayn placed periodic kisses on the top of his head.

Niall takes a sip of the bottle to drown the memory, poisoning the sound of Zayn's laughter.

He didn't want to think about life Before--that was the reason he'd hopped on his bike in the first place. To escape the past and peddle desperately towards a clearer future.

He must have fallen asleep because when he opens his eyes, it's against daylight.

Maura is in tears when he comes home, "I thought you'd gone and done something stupid!" She shouts, and pushes him in the chest with as much strength that she can muster and he thinks, I deserved that, but then she's sobbing and Niall knows not what to do except wrap his arms tight around her and let her tears bleed into his chest.

///

It's Liam who asks, "How long has it been?" as they're walking his dog through the crisp early morning air.

Only a half hour before, Liam had climbed on top of Niall and lightly shook him awake and said, "Come for a walk with me, Nialler," which hadn't really given Niall much of a choice.

The harmless idea of a walk soon morphed into a muted form of torture.

"Almost a month." Niall responds without much thought. He hadn't necessarily been counting each minute, each second, but he clearly remembers the day when he left Zayn's house that last time.

Liam hums just for the sake of response. They walk in comfortable silence, Liam's dog making quiet, almost soothing sniffing sounds at the ground as he trots along against the pull of his leash. "You look well." Liam says when the silence drags on too long.

And Niall knows the compared to the last time I saw you is implied.

"I showered."

Liam's chuckle is a sound that Niall misses being the cause of. "It's nice to know your sense of humor hasn't dwindled away." He playfully nudges Niall's side with his elbow and Niall surprises himself as he feels his lips attempt a smile. "Come on. Let's go back to mine and eat," and because he's always too honest, "I told her I'd keep you out of the house for the day."

They meet Louis for lunch sometime after noon when Louis texts Liam that he's hungry and doesn't want to eat any of the fast food restaurants that surround his place of work. Louis is ecstatic when he sees Niall out of his room and, "Showered! Look at that." and Niall lets him wrap his arms around his torso.

Louis has an hour for lunch so they go to the park, that one close to Harry's that Niall still isn't sure of his feelings over, to sit and eat with their bare feet in the sandbox, despite the cold.

Louis has Harry on the phone within seconds of sitting down and Harry is there in five minutes, slipping off his shoes and nicking a fry from Niall's food as he settles down beside him. He doesn't stop looking at Niall, holding his gaze with those intense green eyes of his. "You all right, then?"

"Yeah." Niall answers, his mouth full. "I'm all right."

And for the moment, he actually did fee quite all right. Being surrounded by best friends competitively tossing feet sand in each other's food could make anyone at least minimally content.

But the runs out quickly and before Niall can even stand on his feet, Harry seizes his hand and says, "Go on, Li. Just meet back at my place, yeah?"

And no more than twenty minutes later, the three of them are squeezed onto Harry's queen sized bed with Niall in the middle, their limbs comfortably tangled as the loud and intense scenes of Inception play out in front of them.

By the time Louis gets off of work, Liam is curled into Niall's side, fast asleep, and snoring softly, and Harry has switched the movie out for some comedy that Niall has never heard of. His eyes are becoming a little heavy as well when Louis lies across them, his head on Niall's stomach, his legs rested over Harry's lap. He settles himself easily, and as the film starts up, he pokes at Niall's stomach and says:

"Zayn says hi."

And Niall lets himself fall asleep, then, with Zayn's words lingering as his last thought.

///

Harry's birthday comes and Niall nearly manages to avoid the party if it weren't for the fact that his mother drags him out of the house.

Harry restricts it to close friends, meaning the four of them and their parents, and family members. He'd opened the invite to the Malik family, but never received a sure answer.

Naturally, the three of them end up migrating to Harry's room where Louis sets the cake he nicked from the kitchen down on Harry's bed, and they all crowd around it.

"Here, let me light it." says Louis, holding his hand out to Liam, who looks awfully determined on not doing so.

"Jesus Christ, I'll do it." says Niall, aiming to take over before the inevitable fight.

He's interrupted, though, by a voice that says, "Or maybe I could give it a shot."

The three of them freeze and Niall is glad he's facing away from the door. He feels his heart sink to the bottom of his feet, his chest cave in, his breath become shortened, weak.

"Holy shit." Louis sounds just as breathless as Niall imagines he would if he were to speak, taken aback. "Get over here."

The command is unnecessary because Niall feels the bed shift when Louis gets off of it. "Holy shit."

Niall closes his eyes against the warm, familiar chuckle that fills the room. "Hey, Lou. I'm sorry I'm late. Erm. Happy birthday, Harry."

"We agreed on no presents." Harry's spot on the bed is abandoned and Niall opens his eyes to make sure he hadn't missed the moment when Liam abandoned ship as well. He was still there, though, cautiously staring back at Niall, his eyes reassuring.

"Yeah, but I know how you like random art shit so I nicked this from the hospital yesterday."

Niall hears Harry's too sincere thanks and the dramatic sound of a kiss on the cheek. "Our little clepto," Harry says lovingly, and after a brief pause, he clears his throat and says, "You know what, actually, we should just do the cake in the kitchen. What d'you say, boys?"

Louis and Liam respond with awkwardly rushed mumbles of agreement and Harry leads them out of the room, Liam shutting the door behind them, promising to distract their parents before the slam of the wood masks the room with silence.

When Niall finally turns around, the words are out of his mouth before he can catch up with them, "What'd you do to your hair?" Niall 's voice is small when he speaks, just as he feels under the intensity of Zayn's eyes.

Zayn smiles, weakly, readjusts his hat. "My sister shaved it. Thought I'd get rid of it on my own, you know?"

Niall shakes his head, slowly, no. He didn't know. "Jesus, Zayn."

And Zayn shrugs his shoulders and Niall gets off the bed and takes the necessary steps forward to wrap his arms around his frame. They both exhale into each other's skin, and Niall turns his face further, nuzzling deeper into his neck.

"Niall." Zayn attempts, desperate.

"No. Don't. Just...just. Please." Zayn doesn't respond vocally, but Niall feels his head nod, and he closes his eyes.

They move to the bed and Zayn presses Niall down into the sheets and kisses him slowly, until they're both too lazy to continue. Zayn trails his hand down Niall's body to slip his hand into his pants, but Niall stops him, bringing his hand back up and linking their fingers together instead, hoping to convey the promise that Niall will let him slide his hand up his shirt, and trace patterns into his skin instead.

They rejoin the party hand in hand in time for the last prices of cake and whether Liam made any effort to distract their parents or not, all effort was lost at the sight of Niall's disheveled hair and Zayn's flushed cheeks. Niall finds himself smiling genuinely for the first time in weeks.

But it's lost when Zayn says, "I'm having surgery," when they've managed to find another moment alone. Their parents are being the cliched end-of-party lingerers, standing around in the kitchen with celebratory drinks in their hands as they toast and pour to children's birthdays, to how much time has passed, and how old they've gotten, and there's more toasting and pouring at the revelation that they're not young themselves anymore.

Harry had announced to them that they'd all be in his room, but Zayn had seized Niall's hand and led him the opposite way, outside into Harry's backyard. Niall had expected Zayn to push him up against the side of the house, to place his hands on either side of his head and kiss him, desperately, determinedly, and any other word starting with a D.

Niall leans himself against the wall on his own accord, waits until Zayn decides to come to him. "When?"

"Tuesday." Zayn answers, and he predictably moves himself closer to Niall's body, almost as if he were intuitively gravitated towards him.

"It's Sunday." Niall says unnecessarily, and Zayn bobs his head. "What kind of surgery?"

Zayn's response is quick, "The important kind." He rests his hand on Niall's cheek, mimicking the way Niall had made soothing strokes on his own cheek not too long ago.

Somehow, they always end up here.

"Will you be okay?" asks Niall, turning his face into Zayn's hand before placing a kiss on the center of his palm. "Tell me you'll be okay."

"I'm always okay," Zayn manages to sound both reassuring and hesitant at the same time, the two overlapping, his vulnerability seeping through the cracks of his words. "Can you--Niall, will you just promise me that you won't worry?"

"You can't ask me that." Niall refuses, "It's not fair."

"I just want you to stop pretending that this is your fault. This isn't your fault. None of this is your fault."

Niall's face must betray him by looking unconvinced because Zayn's eyes flood with apprehension. "I--Ni, please. I hate the thought of you stressing yourself out while I'm not there to help you through it."

Niall surprises himself by scoffing, minute anger flaring up inside of him. "I don't want you to worry about me. That's my job. I'm supposed to take care of you."

Zayn shakes his head. "You don't have to," he says, taking Niall's hand and placing it on his chest, his palm warm and reassuring. "Do you feel that? I'm all right, Ni. I'm all right."

Niall's voice is muted, barely above a whisper when he says, "But what if you're not?"

And he hates how pathetic he must sound, hates how completely and utterly powerless he feels.

"I'm here now." he says, and Niall grips his tshirt, his fingers sinking into the fabric, dipping into Zayn's skin. "I'm right here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this retroactive look at my writing cause you can tell a masochistic 18 old in the year 2012 wrote this


End file.
